


Attack! (Now Recover)

by VenomousSecret



Series: Sheith Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Comfort, Flashbacks, M/M, Memory of traumatic injury, PTSD, Shiro needs a GD hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 13:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7317190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomousSecret/pseuds/VenomousSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro is in the middle of training when an intrusive flashback floors him. </p>
<p>What can Keith possibly do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Attack! (Now Recover)

His opponent rained down blow after blow on his shield, the unrelenting assault driving him back, giving him no room to retaliate. If Shiro had a longer reach, it would be nothing to take the robot down, but as it was, it danced just out of his range, leaving him on the defensive. Not for the first time did he wonder how much easier this could be with a proper Bayard.

Shiro shook his head, trying to stay focused and think around the problem of fighting a skilled mid-range swordsman when he relied on close-range, with nothing to attack with but a mechanical arm.

_A **Galra**  arm,_ he promptly remembered.

Shiro stumbled, giving his opponent just enough time to get its weapon up under the shield and dispel it. The sword came back around—

_A sharp edge cut lengthwise across his face when he jerked back, the pause before the blinding pain just enough time to register that that could have easily been his head that the other prisoner sliced through._

He fought desperately to stay in the present, reaching up to block the blow with his enhanced arm. Shiro struggled to catch the breath that was now so far from his reach, the jarring collision sending a jolt up to where tech met skin and bone—

_It had been his arm or his life, and while he couldn’t think past the pain, he didn’t_ need _to think, just act. Instinct drove his left arm up between them, the dagger in his clenched fist forced up behind the ribcage. He stared the other prisoner in the face as he went slack, collapsing and losing the grip on the sword still embedded in Shiro’s right arm._

The mental image drove Shiro to his knees, phantom pain slicing up the arm that was now holding the robot’s sword as much for support as to block it. It was yanked from his grip and he fell the rest of the way, his shoulder taking the brunt of the impact—

_Shiro’s head struck the floor, his arm unable to catch him, unable to do much of anything now. A cloaked figure stood over him, insisting there was still use left in him._

“No…” There wasn’t enough air to fill his lungs, his vision swimming as the robot stood over him, readying the finishing blow. 

* * *

 Keith absentmindedly watched Shiro train, his fighting style mesmerizing… or maybe it was just Shiro himself. He moved with such fluidity, purple light following his hand as he attempted to strike the training robot, without much success yet.

It wasn’t surprising. Shiro pushed himself with simulation levels leagues above was Keith currently could manage, working through Altean fighter level exercises with determination shining in his gaze. The lack of a Bayard hardly made a difference, but Keith could see where fatigue was beginning to hold him back. It was like he never slept.

Shiro’s early morning workout regimen was closely followed by whatever task Voltron was needed for that day, and any free time he didn’t spend with Keith in the afternoons was always filled with more and more training (sometimes, like now, those times overlapped.) After dinner he kept busy, helping any of the other team members, from teaching Lance how to actually aim his Bayard rather than fire in the right general direction, to keeping Pidge company as they tinkered away with technology.

Keith frowned, his brow creasing as he thought. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if Pidge kept any kind of sleep schedule themselves, but whenever he happened to stay up late himself, he could be sure to find Pidge and Shiro in what he referred to as the living room, chatting away. There would only be a couple hours left before Shiro’s self-appointed wake-up time, and coaxing and kisses only went so far as to getting Shiro to something resembling a bed. Keith was certain that if left to his own devices, Shiro simply _wouldn’t_ sleep.

Looking up, if he’d blinked he might have missed it. The speed with which the two fighters were moving made everything happen so fast, and fear gripped Keith as he saw Shiro fall.

“End simulation!” Keith shouted, jumping the barrier at the edge of the fighting arena and running to Shiro’s side.

And just like that, the robot powered down, moving to return to its starting position. But Keith’s focus wasn’t on it. Blue eyes searched the form in front of him for injuries as he knelt down, almost reaching out to touch Shiro before Keith heard the quiet panicked muttering, the near silent pleading. Touch would only make things worse right now… he’d learned that the hard way.

“Shiro?” Keith fought to keep his voice steady, not wanting to escalate things. “Shiro, look at me…”

It was like he didn’t even hear him, tremors wracking his body, eyes staring unseeingly ahead. Keith felt uncertainty tug at his mind, his heart aching to see Shiro trapped in his own. Usually he at least responded by now.

“…Shiro, _please_.” He wanted to reach out and touch him, hold him, _something_ to bring him back, but anything that could be seen as an attack… Shiro would only blame himself later for what would happen. If Shiro would just acknowledge he was there, that it was _him_ , he could do something instead of sitting there feeling useless. Maybe…

“Takashi, it’s _okay,_ ” Keith didn’t know if it would work, his first name used only rarely, usually intimately, but if it could draw him out of his mind… “It’s _me,_ Keith. You’re safe here, with me, with us—“

Dark eyes snapped to meet his own, and Keith hoped that what he saw was his friend-turned-lover and not whatever was tormenting him behind his eyes.

“Takashi?” Keith breathed out, not wanting to disturb the fragile balance between present and past.

“…Keith?” There was confusion in his voice, but Keith’s presence acted like an anchor, and Shiro’s gaze darted around the room, taking in where he was as he shakily tried to move to a sitting position. Keith moved to help him, movements uncharacteristically slow to keep from startling Shiro.

Once they were both sitting, Keith pressed close against Shiro’s right side, letting him lean against him as he tried to regulate his breathing. When Keith breathed out, Shiro breathed in, the give-and-take further solidifying Shiro’s presence in the ‘now’. The exercise also helped to calm Keith’s own concerns; he never knew what to say after these episodes, just that he could be there.  

When Shiro seemed steady enough, Keith shifted, moving so that he straddled Shiro’s lap. He eased the helmet off of Shiro’s head, setting it aside and pulling him closer. One arm rested over his shoulders, his other hand tracing the line on the back of his scalp between the shorter and slightly longer hair. Shiro bowed his head, resting it against Keith’s sternum. His mismatched arms came up to wrap around Keith’s waist, holding him as tight as he dared, aware that with his mechanical arm’s strength, hurting him would only be too easy.

They remained like that for a while, Keith’s free hand gently rubbing at the base of his neck, where tension gathered naturally from never relaxing his shoulders. By the time they finally moved, Keith determined that that was quite enough training for today, Shiro’s breath was still a bit uneven, but hopefully the worst had passed… for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to send in a prompt at keith-x-shiro on tumblr! Reviews are welcome~


End file.
